


prayers so often go in vain

by hittingonallsixes



Category: Mass Effect - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, a bunch of ocs enjoy - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-12
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:28:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28030176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hittingonallsixes/pseuds/hittingonallsixes
Summary: A silver canister came arcing up from out of the crowd, landing at Tevos’ feet. At the same time, a biotic pull yanked her backwards. She hit the ground hard, vision going black for a moment from the sheer force. Before she could draw a breath, someone leapt on top of her, crushing her further into the unyielding stone.Too stunned to struggle, Tevos grasped at her attacker’s shoulders as a deafening bang echoed throughout the square. A shockwave hit the both of them, sending her head cracking back down against the ground, but the person on her had shielded her from the worst of the blast. It was then that Tevos recognized the feel of the armor under her palms; it was the captain of her personal guard.or: assassination attempts come with being councilor, but luckily tevos has a justicar invested in her survival
Relationships: Samara/Tevos
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on the 2013 mass effect kmeme

The memorial was much bigger in person than it had seemed on the plans Tevos had distractedly signed off on so many months ago. The semi-circular wall stood nearly three stories high, carved out of a pure white stone native to Thessia and carefully positioned so that it would always be lit by the sun or one of the three moons. Every inch its surface was engraved with the name of a fallen member of the First Fleet, one final thank you from a grateful people to the soldiers who had defended them during the bloodiest battles of the war. A service was to be held in a few hours for the surviving warriors.

All seven of them.

The monument stood poised over her like a tidal wave, and Tevos wondered if the sculptors had intended for it to give off that atmosphere or if her complicity only made it loom larger. She dragged her fingertips over the curling asari script. How many fewer names would there be if she had told Shepard about the Prothean beacon sooner?

“Madame Councilor?” Tevos turned around. Her assistant was balancing a stack of datapads on one hand and a tray of food on the other. She gave Tevos a harried smile and continued, “I didn’t want to disturb you, but the vid crews should be arriving shortly.”

“Thank you, Altira.” Tevos gratefully accepted the datapads and skimmed them. The first one was an outline of the speech she had already spent the majority of the previous night memorizing, the rest were dossiers on members of the First Fleet who had distinguished themselves during the fighting. She flicked through file after file, dozens of asari staring up at her from the pad. Some were smiling in their military identification photos, most were frowning in a maiden approximation of toughness, all with their name, rank, and time of death neatly printed underneath.

“Madame?” her assistant asked again, offering her the tray.

Tevos’ facial tattoos wrinkled, but she did not look up from her reading. “I’ll attend to it in a moment. Thank you.” Her voice had lost some of its warmth.

“With all due respect, you were working with the speechwriters through dinner, Madame, and you didn’t eat breakfast.”

Swallowing back a sharp response, the councilor took a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. She was right; Tevos had not been taking care of herself lately. This sort of childishness would be barely acceptable from a maiden just weaned off her mother’s hand, and was ridiculous for someone in Tevos’ position. “You can bring the reporters over for interviews as soon as I’m done.”

Her assistant’s smile stretched her cheek markings. “Of course, Madame Councilor,” she said, setting the tray’s spatial-locking mechanism at a comfortable height before hurrying off. She had only started her position a week ago and was already making herself invaluable.

Tevos braced the datapads on the edge of the tray so she could keep looking through them while she ate. The food was good, nothing to compare with the Citadel’s comforts, but the pastries were still warm and the protein drink was filling if nothing else. She worked her way through the tray as methodically as she did the paperwork, barely tasting anything by the time she had finished skimming through the dossiers.

The interviews went just as smoothly. Tevos had spent all of her adult life as a politician, and she could give a soundbite and a camera-ready smile with only a moment’s notice. She ran through a condensed version of her speech, pausing to give the vid crews time to grab a wide-angle shot of the sculpture before they focused back on her. The questions were all within expectations. Tevos hardly had to think before answering: _immeasurable bravery, never to be forgotten – no, I’m sure they knew their sacrifices wouldn’t be in vain – yes, it’s a…_ she glanced up at the monument _…stunning work of art._

After the reporters were hustled back to their assigned locations, Tevos allowed herself a breath, slumping ever so slightly against the podium. All that was left was to give the speech. Then she could go back to her office and start on the work left undone from the day before.

Early on in her career, she had viewed paperwork as an unpleasant chore, but it was only now, after her workload had more than tripled, that she found it was a respite from reflection. It was important to stay busy, after all.

One of her personal guard jogged up beside the podium and saluted. The second she finished the motion, her hand instantly moved back to the handle of the gun at her belt, fingers just touching the molded grip. “Ma’am, we’re in position. Whenever you’re ready.”

Though she couldn’t see them in the crowd, Tevos knew her guards were placed at strategic locations around the square, no doubt anxious to move to a safer environment.

The sun had dipped lower in the horizon, and the monument’s shadow had grown larger, swallowing Tevos and the podium. One last frown flickered over her face before she could catch it. She wanted to leave as much as her guards did.

Tevos stepped onto the platform, taking her position at the podium. The crowd clapped politely and Tevos waved graciously through it, one more formality what would be a truly long line of them. They were saving their energy for when the survivors were to take the stage, as was proper. Tevos knew she was only there in her official capacity as head of the asari government, while they were the heroes, the victims.

“Citizens of Thessia, today we are gathered under the eyes of the Goddess to honor our daughters, mothers, sisters, and friends in the First Fleet who courageously gave their lives to defend us from the Reapers,” said Tevos, slipping into what Irissa had called her pretentious counci- I mean, public speaking voice.

Words came easily from her lips as Tevos breathed life into each memorized paragraph of her outline. Having to make an artificially crafted speech seem spontaneous and real was a challenge she had dealt with all her career. A pause here, an intentional slip there, an aside about one of soldiers whose photo was still fresh in her mind, and Tevos made the words her own.

As much as was possible, anyway. Her critics were likely already all over the feeds, calling her cold, calling her disconnected, just because she refused to make some exaggerated display mourning, unlike some of the other matriarchs in the assembly.

“From now until the sun goes cold, we will remember their sacrifice.”

Tevos glanced at the survivors, their dress uniforms doing little to hide their scars. They deserved more than fake tears to strengthen her political position.

“Every time we hear the laughter of our daughters, we will remember them.”

One of the more badly injured soldiers, a matron with burn scars all over the right side of her head, crests little more than melted nubs, had to be supported by two of the others. She watched Tevos with an unreadable expression. They deserved much more than she would ever be able to give.

“Every time we hold our bondmates close, we will remember them.”

But if she couldn’t give them what they deserved, she could at least give them what they needed: a strong, dedicated leader.

“Every time we enjoy the comforts of peace, we will remember them.”

She wished she could pretend it was enough.

“They gave us a chance at a future, and for that we will never forget. Throughout the galaxy, let it be said that the words honor, nobility, and courage are synonymous with the soldiers of the First Fleet.” Tevos paused, giving the crowd a moment to reflect.

Out in the crowd she saw a flash of red, the vulgarity of it shocking her. It must have been some oblivious member of another species. Who else would dare wear red to a memorial service? It was a wonder that they hadn’t been stopped at one of the security checkpoints. Hopefully, someone would pull them aside before they made a worse mockery of the whole event.

Red was the color of death, strictly forbidden at asari birthing celebrations and frowned upon at funerals. Some maidens had taken to wearing full dresses of it as a sign of rebellion, and mercenaries were known to go so far as to get their facial tattoos done in red; but still, wearing it to an event as formal as a service for fallen soldiers displayed an appalling lack of social grace.

Her expression didn’t flicker despite her distaste. Tevos had seen far worse with a neutral smile on her face. In her early days as a diplomat, she had been dispatched to help mediate a conflict in one of the turian colonies. Negotiations had broken down, and the leader of one group had attacked the other, ripping a mandible clear off his face and tossing it at her feet. Tevos had held her ground, dress spattered with blood, and managed to get the mauled head of the opposition to agree to an armistice as soon as the Medi-gel had stopped his bleeding.

“However, today we are not just gathered here to remember the dead, but also to celebrate the living-”

Several things happened at once.

A silver canister came arcing up from out of the crowd, landing at Tevos’ feet. At the same time, a biotic pull yanked her backwards. She hit the ground hard, vision going black for a moment from the sheer force. Before she could draw a breath, someone leapt on top of her, crushing her further into the unyielding stone.

Too stunned to struggle, Tevos grasped at her attacker’s shoulders as a deafening bang echoed throughout the square. A shockwave hit the both of them, sending her head cracking back down against the ground, but the person on her had shielded her from the worst of the blast. It was then that Tevos recognized the feel of the armor under her palms; it was the captain of her personal guard.

The captain struggled to her knees, her mouth shaping what must have been a yell. Tevos’ ears were still ringing with the explosion, the screams of the crowd, her own heartbeat pulsing in the back of her head. She could only watch the captain’s lips and teeth move in meaningless patterns. The captain fisted her hands in the front of her dress and shook her, mouthing words that were lost to the roar in her head.

Baring her teeth in frustration, the captain brought their foreheads together, eyes swirling black as she initiated a meld. Tevos had a brief moment of panic, almost refusing to open her mind, but she pushed through it and let down her barriers. As melds went, it was superficial, though Tevos could feel a searing pain in her back that she knew wasn’t her own.

_Get out of here. Follow the escape plan,_ the captain yelled in her mind. _Go!_

Just as rapidly as she had initiated it, the captain broke the meld and pulled away from her. She crouched in a fighting stance, knees barely supporting her as she drew her sidearm, her other hand pulsing with biotic energy. Now that her back was to Tevos, she could see where the pain she had felt in the meld had come from. A few of the armored plates protecting the base of her spine were warped and scorched.

Someone had shot her in the back.

With the captain covering her, Tevos levered herself to her feet, a hand instantly flying to her temple in an effort to stop the world from tilting wildly. She took a staggering few steps towards the edge of the monument, balance returning even as her head throbbed harder. They had planned for this, and her staff had been briefed on the different protocols. All she had to do was follow the escape route and a skycar would have her halfway to Armali by the time the commando squads arrived.

But none of the meticulously detailed plans had covered the sheer insanity of the situation. The crowd screamed with one voice, individual cries lost in the uproar. Some tried to scale the platform, while others stormed the exits, pushing and shoving and trampling past the enforcers in their panic. Her guards converged on the stage, trailing blue energy as they leapt out of the crowd.

One of the guards threw Tevos’ arm over her shoulder and grabbed her around the waist, half-supporting, half-carrying her. The other three formed a defensive perimeter, weapons out and biotics flaring. Unwilling to fire into the crowd, they focused on blocking the shots that seemed to come from all directions.

The six of them ran for the covered walkway that would lead them to the rendezvous point. A sudden thought chilled Tevos to the core. There were only five guards escorting her, counting the captain. What happened to the other six?

Everything resolved into a series of sensations, the feel of armored plates digging into her side, the smell of ozone and smoke, the sounds of their footsteps echoing in the walkway. Tevos’ breath burned in her lungs as she struggled to keep up with the brutal pace they were setting. It had been decades since she last exerted herself like this, and pain spiked through her head and chest with every inhale.

If it weren’t for the arm around her, Tevos would have stumbled when the guards came to a sudden halt at the exit of the walkway. The captain motioned and two of the guards broke off from the group and moved into the open courtyard and fanned out.

The captain put a hand on Tevos’ shoulder. “Still with us?”

“Minor injuries, but I’ll live. What in Athame’s name is going on? Where are the other-”

“Not important right now, ma’am,” the captain cut her off. There was a moment of unspoken communication between her and the guard holding Tevos, who tightened her grip on the councilor. “Without the rest of the squad, we can’t secure the whole courtyard, so you and Ilenia are going to make a run for the transport.”

Tevos’ eyes widened at the implication.

“We’ll follow once you’re clear, and…” she faltered for a second, “and we’ll inform the commandos to be on the lookout for the others. Be ready to go on my signal.”

The captain looked as if she was about to say something more, but she only gave them both a curt nod. The other guard fell in step behind her and together they charged out into the courtyard, weapons sweeping back and forth, trying to cover as much ground as possible. A bead of sweat dripped down the side of Ilenia’s face, tracing the line of an old scar. Tevos imagined she could hear the young commando’s heart beating through the layers of skin and bone and metal.

Ilenia tensed as the captain held two fingers in the air and beckoned. “That’s the signal. Move!”

On the holomap she’d been shown earlier, the escape route seemed quick and efficient. The captain assured her that the entire evacuation process could be completed in less than ten Galactic Standard minutes. Now, with Ilenia’s arm gripping her waist, the run to the center of the courtyard alone seemed to take hours.

The whole situation was surreal. Tevos had faced assassination attempts before, but they were subtle, quiet. Poisoned wine and smuggled drell assassins, not bombs in a crowd.

A cry of pain shattered her trance, and the world sped back into motion. One of her guards crumpled to the ground, clutching at her side. Blood leaked through the gaps in her fingers. Around the square, a half dozen asari threw off their cloaking and swarmed the remaining guards.

“Goddess!”

Tevos couldn’t tell if she or Ilenia had gasped the word, if it was a prayer or a curse. Either way it went unanswered.

There was a ghastly sound of tearing meat, and Ilenia stumbled, throwing all of her weight on Tevos. She couldn’t support them both and fell to her knees as Ilenia’s arm went limp around her waist. The commando collapsed on her side, hands weakly scrabbling at her chestplate. Below her sternum, where the heavier plates ended and the flexible mesh began, was a charred hole.

Without thinking, Tevos rolled Ilenia onto her back and pressed both hands over the wound. Her palms were instantly slick with blood. The commando groaned in pain, tugging at her wrists. Several other dull thuds sounded as the last of her guards hit the ground.

Tevos raised her head with a growing sense of horror. She couldn't be alone with the assassins. That was not possible. It couldn’t be. She was the asari councilor, one of the most powerful women in the galaxy. She couldn’t be shot on her knees in some forgotten corner of Thessia.

She couldn’t.

Ilenia coughed feebly under her hands. Tevos saw the commando’s eyes roll with fear as she struggled to breathe, saw one of the assassins savagely kick her downed captain in the ribs, saw the puddles of purplish blue, so much darker than the sacred pool she had knelt before to take her oath of office. She had sworn to lead and defend the asari people. Ilenia was still alive and some of the others might be as well, there would be time for fear later.

Or maybe there wouldn’t be.

“What…” Tevos swallowed past the dryness in her throat. “Whatever you’re being paid, I’ll double it. Triple it. Please, just stop. My guards need medical treatment.” She knew her voice was shaking, but it was difficult to be authoritative with blood soaking the cuffs of her sleeves as the commando’s life slowly dripped onto the flagstones.

Three of the assassins stalked closer. One, a thin matron with jagged, yellow tattoos, leveled her gun at Tevos, while the other two grabbed her by the upper arms and dragged her to her feet. They held her still as the matron pulled a grey cylinder from her belt and twisted off the end with her teeth, revealing a needle.

Despite her determination not to show them any more weakness than she already had, Tevos couldn’t help but shy away. It made no difference, the asari holding her were as strong as any huntress. Her one consolation was that her face at least was stoic.

“This is the worst mistake you’ve ever made, that I can promise you. Do you think the Matriarchy will let my death go unanswered for? Do you think there is any place you can run to that the Spectres won’t find? If you leave now, I swear I will not come after you,” said Tevos. A lie, not even a good one.

The matron snorted and holstered her gun. She grabbed Tevos’ crest, wrenching her head to the side. “Shut up, you’re not gonna die. Yet.”

Tevos struggled in their grip, the tendons in her neck standing out, as the needle was raised with all the severity of an executioner’s ax. She was still talking, making promises and threats, but the woman ignored both.

“Say g’night, Councilor.”

Crackling, blue energy suddenly surrounded the matron and she let go of Tevos, flailing helplessly a few feet off the ground. From out of the walkway, another asari emerged, dressed in red armor. Tevos came to the realization at the same time the mercenaries did, her whispered “Justicar…” lost amid their shouts.

Effortlessly holding the matron in the air, the justicar walked into the courtyard, unconcerned even as the mercenaries moved to flank her. The ceremonial plates on her face gleamed crimson and deadly, though her expression remained impassive.

She spoke, voice clear and calm, “I am Samara, servant of the Code. Will you yield?”

When Tevos was little, barely twenty years old and terrified of the shadows that lurked in every corner of her father’s estate on Palaven, her mother had held her close and read to her from a storybook. She could still remember the gentle weight of her mother’s arms around her, the lulling rhythm of her voice, the glossy feel of the pages under her fingers. She had read to her about Pania, who had played sweetly enough to charm a goddess, about Lucen and the stars, and she read to her about the justicars.

_…but Rylenn’s faith was too strong for such tricks, and she fought her way through the wicked Ardat-Yakshi's illusions. You know what an Ardat-Yakshi is don’t you, dear one?_

Even now, with blood drying on her hands, surrounded by the dead and dying, Tevos couldn’t help but feel an echo of that childhood safety. But… but this was real life, not a fairytale. She wasn’t some innocent colonist to be rescued, and she had learned that the justicars were dreaded as much as they were revered. They did not offer mercy, only justice as brutal and swift as the crimes they avenged.

“Shoot her!” hissed the matron, twisting in midair. She kept whispering it under her breath, voice going higher and higher. “Shoot her, shoot her, shoot her…”

“Will you yield?” Samara repeated. Her control was terrifying. It was one thing to lash out with a burst of biotic energy, but maintaining such a focused amount of force was entirely another.

None of the mercenaries wanted to make the first move, their eyes flicking from the matron to the justicar and back again. Was she the leader? One of the two holding her loosened her grip, hand poised to grab her weapon, but she stopped, unwilling to move those last few inches. On the ground, Ilenia gave another weak cough and went still. Samara turned her head towards the sound, the movement slight but enough to snap the mercenaries’ frayed nerves.

With a yell, one of the younger looking ones opened fire, the rest following suit after less than a second’s pause. But Samara was already moving. A gesture sent the matron sailing across the courtyard, slamming into another mercenary with a bone-snapping crunch. She closed with a third before the mercenary could even turn to run and smashed a biotically charged fist into face. Samara’s movements were contained, efficient, not the slightest amount of energy wasted as she flowed from stance to stance.

The two mercenaries holding Tevos dropped her and ran for the exit, frantically trying to put as much distance between them and the justicar as they could. They didn’t run nearly fast enough. Samara finished off the last of the assassins who had been surrounding her and sprinted after them. In desperation, one of them shot her companion in the leg, leaving the howling asari right in the justicar’s path.

Samara darted right past the injured asari and, as the mercenary looked over her shoulder to see if the distraction had worked, biotically lifted her up and hurled her into a wall. She slid to the ground with a wet thud, trailing blood down the grey stone.

Goddess, this was no fairytale. Tevos felt as though she was going to be sick, dropping to her knees beside Ilenia. Mechanically, she pressed her hands to the commando’s wound again. This time there was no gasp of pain, no pulling at her wrists. The mesh and plate of her armor was soaked with blood, but Tevos couldn’t look away when the alternative was to watch the snap and gurgle that heralded the last mercenary’s death.

A shadow fell over Tevos, every bit as cold and suffocating as the monument’s had been. She slowly looked up to see the justicar towering over her, silent and crimson. Tevos was painfully aware of how motionless Ilenia was, her face paled to a sickly blue-white. Would she be judged for Ilenia? For the other countless asari she had ordered to their deaths?

Had the justicar come for her?

Instead, Samara knelt down by the guard, searching for a pulse with sure movements. Her brow knit faintly and she gently wrapped her gloved hands around Tevos’, drawing her away from the injury. When she spoke, her voice was still clear, still calm, but much softer. “She is at peace.”

From anyone else’s mouth, the words would have been a lie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sometimes it takes a plague to make you fulfill a promise you made on a mass effect kinkmeme when you were twenty. come hit me up on twitter @saraberyy if you want to yell at me for dipping out for seven years or keep me honest this time around


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> originally posted on the 2013 mass effect kmeme

“Now if you’ll hold still a moment, Councilor.” The doctor shined a light in both of her eyes, making Tevos wince as her headache pound harder. She tutted and scribbled something down in her datapad.

After the wreckage of the courtyard, the hospital seemed too quiet, too sterile. Every last noise seemed to echo in the silence: the tap of the doctor’s fingers on the pad, the tread of soldiers patrolling outside the room, the low hum of the lights, all of them grating just on the edge of her hearing. Tevos’ hands clenched on the cushioned surface of the exam table. She could still feel the damp mesh and plate beneath her palms.

Mercifully, the medics had wiped down her hands while they were checking her for injuries, but the job was cursory at best. There was blood drying underneath her fingernails and curling around her wrists in tacky smudges, and it was all she could do to sit and let the doctor drone on and poke at her with various instruments. Another spike of pain lanced through her skull, and Tevos quietly promised herself that if the doctor tried to jam one more chrome-colored torture device in her face, she’d have a Spectre team shove every last one of them-

“Councilor Tevos?”

“Hmm? Ah, forgive me. I didn’t quite catch that first part.”

The doctor had minimal facial tattoos, only a few white streaks trailing back into her crests. She must have few family ties, or she was exceptionally pious. “Are you experiencing any discomfort?”

“A little, yes.”

“Any dizziness? What about nausea?”

“None whatsoever, and as for the nausea-” she desperately needed to scrub her hands “-perhaps some, but I doubt it’s related to my injuries.”

“I’ll use my own judgment on that.” the doctor said, primly.

Tevos smoothed out the wrinkles in her hospital gown and sat up straighter. “By all means, doctor, though it would be a good idea to share your thoughts.” She gave a practiced smile to soften the blow. The message was clear: Tevos was the Councilor first and a patient second.

The doctor bowed her head in a rather old fashioned apology. “Yes, Councilor. Everything indicates that you have a minor concussion as well as several broken crests. Apart from that, some significant bruising along the back and upper arms.”

“The crests I can fix right now,” the doctor continued, rummaging through one of the cabinets. “There isn’t much I can do for the concussion apart from managing the pain. I recommend that you get plenty of rest the next few days.”

Tevos let the doctor set her crests and inject them with a temporary bonding solution. The solution would keep them stable until they healed on their own. It was fortunate the hospital was well stocked. Medicines had been in short supply in the months following the war. Military escorts for all cargo ships and a few underhanded deals with the Terminus system were all that kept the post-fighting casualties to a minimum.

There was a tentative knock at the door and Tevos’ secretary walked in, sporting a bandage above her left eye. Tevos was on her feet in an instant and clasped Altira’s hands in her own, a genuine smile stretching her lips. “Thank the Goddess you’re-” Alive. “-alright. I feared the worst when you weren’t at your station.”

“Yes, I…” she said, ducking her head in embarrassment. “I managed to get completely turned around and ran in the wrong direction until someone shoved me into a barricade.” She gingerly touched her bandage.

“If you need some time off to recover, I completely understand.”

“I knew the risks when I applied for the job.” Altira puffed her chest out slightly. She was young even for a maiden.

“Even so,” said Tevos. She squeezed her hands tighter for a moment and let go. “I am truly grateful for your service, Altira.”

“Not at all, Madame. What do you need me to do?”

“First, I want you to find whoever is leading the investigation into what happened today, and bring me a full report. Contact Vineal with Media Relations and tell her to set up a press conference for tomorrow. Until then she is to report that the attack was a failure and I and my staff are completely unharmed, which,” Tevos glanced at the doctor. “I trust my medical report will confirm.”

Her secretary looked confused. “Madame?”

“A strong front is the best way to keep this from happening again.”

It was half true. The more important reason was that the asari were still realing from the war. The army and police forces were just starting to recover, and the economy had been nearly decimated. Distant colonies and even some districts of Thessia talked of secession, quietly, hesitantly, but that they considered it at all was unprecedented. Tevos needed to be a symbol of stability; she couldn’t appear vulnerable when everything felt so close to the edge.

“I understand. Anything else, Madame?”

Tevos looked thoughtfully at the door. “Was there a justicar waiting outside?”

“A justicar?” Altira whispered, face pale behind her tattoos.

“I’ll assume that’s a no. She’s likely speaking with the detectives. Would you inform her that my examination is over if she wishes to talk?”

“I… yes. Yes, Madame Councilor.” She turned to leave.

“Oh, one more thing,” said Tevos as she wrapped the hospital gown tighter around her body. “Some clothes would be appreciated.”

***

Nearly everything, Samara had found, was transient. In eight centuries of life she had seen empires set out to conquer the galaxy and collapse back into the mud. Families came together and shattered into distant fragments bound only by blood and mutual distaste. Weapons grew ever more efficient in their ancient art, pressed into service by idealistic revolutionaries one day and credit-hungry mercenaries the next. Gods were forgotten and gods were created, the stones of old temples paving the new. Stars died and while others were reborn from the ashes. The very language Samara spoke now would have been unrecognizable to her younger self without a translator. But, until the last sentient creature on the last living world drew one final breath, there would be right and there would be wrong.

Justice was eternal.

In the crowded hospital room, however, it was a small mercy. One of the injured guards, Captain Renos Y’Sael, lay on the bed, a sheet tangled around her legs. Layers of white bandages wound around her neck and torso, so thick that it was difficult to tell where the blankets ended and the woman began. The exposed skin of her face and arms still glistened with Medi-gel the paramedics had used to keep her stable enough to transport. Her bondmate, a twitchy salarian in a lab assistant’s uniform, held her good hand, his three fingers carefully laced with her five. He kept reaching out with his other hand as if to comfort her further, but pulled it back, terrified of causing her more hurt.

“And what happened after the first grenade went off?” The detective’s voice was apologetic but firm. Renos had refused any pain medication until after she made her report, and the quality of her testimony was rapidly deteriorating. When the captain remained silent, her face rigid and strained, the detective repeated herself louder, “What did you do, captain? Was there an evacuation plan?”

“Yes,” Renos hissed through gritted teeth. She clenched her bondmate’s hand tighter, knuckles pale, delivering her account in gasped fragments. “Followed the route- Wirea and the others weren’t there- ambush- in the courtyard-”

“That would be Corporal Wirea, correct? Are you certain that it was an ambush? Could they have followed you and circled ahead?” asked the detective, scrolling through her datapad. She paused over a map of the monument and the surrounding area, and her eyes narrowed.

“It was- an ambush- cloaked and in position-” She levered herself up on one elbow to look Samara in the eye. Her gaze was defiant, though underneath was the gnawing culpability of a commander that led her troops to slaughter. It did not ask forgiveness, but craved it all the same. “We didn’t have a chance.”

She collapsed back into the bed with a muffled, “Goddess…”

The detective opened her mouth to ask another question when the salarian got to his feet, stepping between them as if he could block the words with his body. “Enough! This is torture! Can’t you see she’s in agony? I’ll… I’ll have you brought up on charges if you don’t stop!”

“Now see here, she agreed to provide a report,” said the detective. She appeared unable to decide whether to laugh or take offense. “This is a lawful investigation-”

Samara laid a gloved hand on her shoulder. “I believe Captain Y’sael has told you all she can. Would you prolong her suffering?”

“No! Never. I mean, I would never,” she sputtered, “Captain, on behalf of the police force, we’re extremely grateful for you testimony. I’ll just go find a doctor, then.” With that, the detective gave them a hasty salute and left, the door slamming shut behind her.

“Thank you.” The salarian sat back down, chest still heaving with the violence of his outburst. “Thank you.”

Samara nodded. “You need not fear for her. She will recover.”

Love, too, was temporary. It paled with the years, and died with the lovers. Even the memories it lived on in eventually would fade and join the morass of echoes and half-formed dreams that lurked in the base of the mind. There was a lesson that Samara learned with a gun to her head, the barrel digging into her temple, finger hovering over the trigger as she spoke with her daughter a final time: something did not have to be eternal to be meaningful.

She bowed and gave them their peace.

The detective was around the corner, forehead pressed to the wall as she tried to slow her breathing. She jumped at Samara’s approach and took an involuntary step backward. “I really didn’t intend to be so… I mean, it’s my job. I have to ask those questions-”

“Calm yourself, detective. You were only following your orders,” Samara said. This fear was nothing new to her. Few asari would ever see a justicar in their considerable lifetimes, and fewer still would walk away unscathed. “I have no quarrel with you. Have you spoken with a doctor?”

“Yeah. Er, yes, justicar. She said she’d take care of Y’Sael. Topshelf meds. The best.” The detective dragged her sleeve across her face and wiped her palms on her pants, leaving faint marks on the blue fabric.

Samara nodded once in acknowledgement. Before Shepard and Morinth and the moment of realization at the Ardat-Yakshi Monastery, she would have left it at that. But, the detective was still distressed, and Samara knew her duty. “I’m grateful for your assistance. You may call me Samara, if you wish.”

“Thank you, justi- Samara,” she said haltingly. Some of the tension bled out of her stocky frame. “I’ve never shared an investigation with a justicar before. So how's this work? Is there some kind of protocol for accepting evidence from you? Do you hand the suspects over to us for a trial?”

“How it works, detective, is entirely up to you. I will conduct my own investigation with what I hope will be your full cooperation. If I discover that you are withholding evidence from me, I am compelled to take it. By force, should it be necessary.” Samara slowly curled her fingers into a loose fist, the material of her gloves creaking under the strain. “And there will be no trial.”

The detective blanched and mumbled, “Just like that?”

“Exactly so. I do not say this in threat, but consider it a warning all the same. I will follow my Code.”

The Code had entire tomes devoted to how justicars were supposed to interact with asari law enforcement. One thousand six hundred and thirty-seven different aphorisms, verses, parables, and rules that Samara had memorized in her training, which covered every scenario she would ever find herself in. There could be no question of right and wrong, only justice and those who stood in its way. Samara let the meaning sink in before continuing, “Would you care to brief me on what you've learned thus far?”

“Do I have a choice?” she asked, fidgeting with the datapad in her hands.

“You always have a choice, detective. Sometimes a choice is all you have.” Guilt or innocence, exile or redemption, a bullet or a daughter; Samara had made hers long ago.

After a moment of hesitation, the detective’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “Can we find someplace more private first? I’d prefer not to blurt out classified information in a hallway.”

“A wise decision.”

The detective led the way to a cramped breakroom where a few nurses were relaxing between shifts. Before she could flash her badge, the nurses caught sight of Samara, their faces going tight with that mixture of awe and fear that dogged her like a second shadow. The detective sheepishly tucked her badge back into a belt pouch and jerked her head towards the door. “Afraid you’ll have to clear out for a bit. Official police business and all.”

One of them, a matron with deep green lines radiating from her jaw and clearly the most senior member present, looked as if she was about to protest, but another grabbed her arm, whispering heatedly in her ear. Samara did not have to be particularly observant to pick the hissed ‘justicar’ out of the soft tangle of words. The nurses quickly rose and filed out, eyes never leaving Samara. As soon as the last nurse was clear, the detective slammed the door closed and punched a locking sequence into the keypad.

She flopped down into one of the recently vacated chairs and wiped more sweat from her face. “Does everyone react like that?” she asked, motioning towards the door. “Running scared or falling at your feet?”

“Many asari do, most others are unaware of the significance of the armor.” Samara stood beside her, the height difference forcing the detective to look up to meet her gaze. “Fear is occasionally a useful tool.” And another burden the justicars were expected to bear. The line between shield and chain was an ever blurry one.

“Yeah, I could see it.” The detective gave a bark of laughter, short and self-deprecating. Pulling out her datapad, she brought up the case file and continued, “Where do you want me to start?”

“That is up to you, detective.”

She nodded and brought up a half dozen video clips. “Might as well start at the beginning, then. These are the official feeds we requisitioned from the vid crews,” she said, pointing at the first four. “These two are security footage. There were no cameras in the courtyard itself, but the entrance and exit were monitored. Now watch…” The detective pressed play, trailing off.

In the first four images, each from a slightly different vantage point, Councilor Tevos was finishing her opening statement, her voice skillfully balancing the mourning the crowd expected and the reassurance they so desperately needed, powerful even from the tiny speakers. Samara had seen this before, in person, she knew what was about to come. Right on time, the silver grenade arced up as the councilor went flying back, biotic energy flaring around her.

“There! Do you see it?”

“It?” Samara asked, brow furrowing.

The detective tapped on a clip and it grew to fill the whole screen. “Here, you can see it best in this one.” It was the same view as before: the councilor at her podium, a captain at her back and a mob at her feet. The last few words rang out for a second time ‘-to celebrate the living-’ and then the guard jerked, the canister flew, and the councilor was yanked clear. Samara paused.

“The captain was attacked first.”

“All of her guards were. Even the plainclothes in the crowd and the ones hidden on the rooftops. Which when you add it to this…” She opened the security footage. They showed the councilor’s mad dash for the courtyard, and nothing else. “The cameras wouldn’t be able to see through cloaking, but you not even a trained group of commandos can move quicker than a fast walk when they can’t see their own feet, let alone the person in front of them, and they’d have to run pretty quick to circle ahead.”

“I checked while I was interviewing Y’Sael. There were a dozen other possible routes the councilor could have taken, but they knew it was this particular one with enough time to set up a cloaked ambush. They knew where the guards would be and where they’d go.”

“There was an informant.” Samara finished.

The detective closed the screens and stood, her mouth set in a grim line. “It’s safe to say that someone in the councilor’s inner circle isn’t very fond of her.”

“But they don’t want her dead either,” the detective continued, beginning to pace back and forth in the cramped room. “That was no assassination. Believe me, I’ve worked plenty of ‘em. They could’ve shot her in the head a dozen times, but they hold off for a… a kidnapping attempt?”

“It appears so.”

“That’s the problem, though. It appears to be a lot of things, and none of them fit together. It was a perfectly executed plan with an idiotic goal. Kidnap Councilor Tevos? They’d never get her off-planet, and if they didn’t leave Thessia, they’d be found within a day. Two at the most.”

“One could commit much injustice in a day. Do you have any leads on the informant?” said Samara.

“No official leads, no.”

Samara could faintly see the flicker of hesitation in her eyes, not the guilty cast that liars so often had, but the stutter of someone who wasn’t sure enough to risk the consequences for failure. She was justified in her fear; those who deceived justicars, even by accident, did not go unpunished.

“You suspect someone.” It wasn’t a question. And it still demanded an answer.

The detective froze mid-step, nearly stumbling into the table. “I mean… I can’t say for sure…” The first few words were halting and stuttered, but she forced the rest of them out in a single breath. “I don’t have anything against her. I don’t! It’s just that out of eleven guards: four are dead already and one won’t make it through the night. Another isn’t gonna walk again while her partner’s last known position is currently occupied by an asari-sized blood splatter. And the rest of them’ll be recovering for months.

“All that, and Y’Sael will be out of here in a few days,” she finished almost apologetically, visibly steeling herself as Samara approached.

“Once again, I am indebted to you,” Samara said with a small bow. The movement was hardly more than a slight bend at the waist, but the detective could not have looked more shocked if she knelt down at her feet. “Good luck with your investigation, detective. I would be grateful if you continued to keep me apprised of the situation.”

“It… it would be my honor,” she breathed. Behind the stress-lines and tattoos that scored her face, for a moment the detective looked young again, a child who believed that the justicars guarded their dreams and kept them safe from whatever monsters crept under their beds in the moonless nights.

A different shield, a different chain, but Samara much preferred it to fear.

***  
“Your bruises are already fading,” Altira murmured, lacing up the back of Tevos’ dress. Her hands were warm wherever they touched bare skin as they went through the quick, precise movements. “Do they still hurt?”

“A little. They’re mostly numb from the gel,” Tevos answered without looking up from the sink. She had already used half the bottle of soap the doctor kept on the counter, and the water cooled from just shy of scalding to merely painfully hot. She held her hands up, examining them with a critical eye. Though they looked clean, she could still feel the blood on them, sticky and wretched, hiding in the creases in her palms and underneath her nails. Tevos bit the inside of her cheek and thrust her hands back under the water.

Altira made a soft noise in the back of her throat and slid her hands from Tevos’ collar to her shoulders and down to curl around her upper arms, subtly drawing her away from the sink. “Perhaps I could do your sleeves now?”

“I… yes, I think that would be a good idea.”

She let Altira unroll her sleeves from where they had been bunched around her elbows. Like all respectable asari dresses, this one covered everything from above her shoulders to just beyond her knuckles, and was intended to be laced tightly around the wrists. Tevos watched in silence as the water clinging to her hands slowly seeped through the fabric.

“Are you certain that was the most recent report?”

“Of course, Madame,” Altira said, never looking away from her task. “Captain Renos Y’Sael is injured, and will fully recover in a few days. Corporal Wirea Cyuen is missing, but-”

“She’s an asari commando, not a credit chit. How can she be missing?” Tevos nearly grit her teeth in frustration before she could swallow down the feeling and relax her jaw.

Four of her personal guards were dead. She had never considered herself particularly close with any of them, perhaps even more distant than a typical bodyguard relationship. It was not unheard of for officials to sleep with their guards to build loyalty and a sense of group unity, but Tevos had never been fond of the custom. Despite all that, she cared about them. She had pulled strings to get Wirea Cyuen’s politically-minded sister a minor position in the hanar delegation, and she still remembered signing off on Renos Y’Sael’s request of absence so she could bind wrists with some young salarian scientist.

They had lives, which they offered up each day for her protection. And now four were dead. No more asari were supposed to die, not like that, not with blood and bullets as if the war had never ended. The horrors of the evacuation were never to repeat themselves, Tevos should have been able to guarantee that much at the very least.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know anything more.” Altira bowed in apology over Tevos’ wrists as she finished up the lacing. “The detective was in a meeting with the justicar, and I didn’t want to risk my life barging in.”

She gave a little grin, but it faltered as soon as she glanced at the raw skin on Tevos’ fingers. “I mean, I left word that you wanted to see them right away, but I could go back down. Even justicars have to make time for the councilor, right?”

“Perhaps, though I don’t envy anyone trying to enforce such a request,” Tevos said, gently pulling her hands free of Altira’s. “I’m sure they will be finished soon enough, and there is plenty to do in the meantime. Have you received confirmation of the press conference?”

“You have any slot you want in all the major news feeds.”

“Good, tell her I want the earliest one possible. The less time there is for speculation, the better.” Tevos checked her reflection in the mirror mounted above the sink. The shaking matron who had been escorted to the room a few hours previously was gone, and the asari councilor once again stood in her place.

As long as her people needed her, Tevos could not allow herself the luxury of collapse or hesitation. There was work to be done.

“Got it,” Altira said, making a note in her Omni-tool. “Secretary Vineal sent some press materials for you to look over. While you’re doing that, I’ll file the request for that time slot, and reschedule the rest of today’s appointments.”

Altira passed Tevos a data-pad and hurried off to confer with the other media personnel, nearly colliding with one of the guards stationed outside in her rush. The door clicked shut on the sound of data-pads scattering everywhere and muffled cursing.

Tevos sank down in one of the padded chairs next to the examination table, looking over the notes for the next day’s press conference. They were remarkably well put together given the haste with which they must have been assembled, though they were a little vague in places. That was unavoidable in the current situation. She hoped that the detectives would be able to provide more in the way of details before the conference went live, but she wouldn’t have made it a day as a politician if she hadn’t been able to speak confidently with little to no information backing up her words. Tevos was so absorbed in her work that she almost missed the polite knock on the door.

Outside, a guard cleared her throat and said, “Madame Councilor? I have a Detective Xiasa T’Senal and a, uh, a justicar here to see you.”

“Send them in.” Tevos stood and brushed the creases out of her dress.

She clasped her hands together behind her back, putting on her most professional expression despite the tremor of nervousness that clawed its way up her spine at the thought of seeing the justicar again. Even though the justicars had sworn their oaths to the Matriarchy, Tevos couldn’t help but feel echoes of the terror she had felt in the courtyard, the fear of judgment. Everything she had done, she did for the good of the asari, but she knew no justicar would ever find her innocent.

The guard opened the door and in walked a stocky, frowning asari in a dark blue uniform, the detective, and the justicar, tall and serene.

Tevos dismissed the guard with a nod, and greeted them, “Detective Xiasa, thank you for coming. Justicar, I wish we could have met under more pleasant circumstances.”

“As do I,” the justicar said, bowing at the waist in a smooth, practiced motion. “I trust you are feeling well?”

“Physically speaking, yes,” Tevos said. “I was very fortunate, but I’m afraid I can’t say the same for my guards.”

She thought of doctor’s report Altira had brought her earlier, of page after page of agony neatly sterilized with clinical terms, and her voice hardened slightly. “Though perhaps I was misinformed as to the true extent of their injuries if they were well enough to be interrogated. I should hardly think their Medi-gel even had a chance to dry.”

The detective was unmoved by her jab, but Tevos knew she was far from the most fearsome person in the room. Her gaze was drawn back to the justicar like iron to a magnet. Tevos had spent her career interacting with some of the most powerful people in the galaxies: from salarian dalatresses to turian generals to ancient matriarchs, and even a self-styled queen. The justicar held herself as confidently, as dangerously, as any of them, her impassive expression betraying none of her thoughts.

“Is this place secure? No way someone could be listening in or anything?” the detective asked Tevos.

“It’s as secure as a public building can be. The room was swept for listening devices, and the guards are instructed to only let authorized personnel within fifty yards.”

The detective glanced at the justicar before responding. “First, I have to be clear that there’s no definitive proof one way or the other…”

“I understand.” Nothing satisfying was ever prefaced with those words, and the thought of the detective wasting time with disclaimer after disclaimer made it difficult to keep her tone neutral. “Please, any theory is better than what I have now.”

“Like I said, it’s still not certain, but after reviewing the security footage and speaking with a few witnesses, one theory seems to fit better than anything else.”

The detective looked over her shoulder, almost as if she expected someone to be listening in, before she continued, quietly, “Well, the evidence is pointing to an informant. Someone with direct access to evac plans and goddess knows what else.”

“An informant?” Tevos echoed, stunned. She could feel the justicar’s eyes on her like a physical weight, silently cataloguing her reaction.

“Who could possibly…” she paused, shaking her head, “do you have any idea who it is?”

“We’re still investigating all possibilities,” the detective said, pulling out her datapad, her fingers skimming over the screen. “Have you received any death threats recently?”

“Of course,” Tevos gave a helpless little laugh, “I’ve received at least several a day for the last hundred years. We follow standard protocol. All threats are analyzed to determine whether the risk is genuine, and if so, a specialized unit is dispatched to, ah, neutralize it.”

“What about internal threats? Is there a protocol for that?” As she spoke, the detective passed her datapad from hand to hand, a nervous habit Tevos found more than a little distracting.

“It’s already in effect. An investigation was triggered the moment this happened.”

“You think it’ll turn up anything?”

“I doubt it. My immediate staff have all gone through an intensive screening process: background checks for several generations, security melds, redundant diagnostic tests. A threat from anyone with access to my schedule and security details is a statistical impossibility.”

The detective jotted down a few notes. “And your guards go through the same procedure? The melds and background checks?”

“Not exactly, no. They are typically recruited from private contractors, which are even more selective,” Tevos said, slowly. “Detective, I’m getting the impression that you’re investigating some possibilities more than others. Let me ask you again, do you know who the informant is?”

“I didn’t want to alarm you this early in the investigation, but the people with the best opportunity to pull off an attack like that would be your guards,” she said, her voice resigned but professional. It was the tone of someone used to delivering bad news to powerful people.

“My guards,” Tevos repeated. “I see.”

Memories of the first few seconds of the attack flickered through her mind: the canister, the pull, and the captain protecting her with her own body as an explosion echoed off the marble monument. Could that all have been scripted for her benefit?

Doubt clawed its way up her back, fingers like wire coiling around her throat and stomach. It seemed every bit as cold as her critics claimed she was to repay the loyalty and sacrifice she had seen today with suspicion, but blind faith was an indulgence she couldn’t afford.

“You need a minute there?”

“My apologies, I was just trying to process all this.” Tevos was careful to keep her voice level. “You’ll have to excuse me for being somewhat skeptical, but I have to point out that my guards are either lying in hospital beds or the morgue.”

“Not all of them, Councilor.” The honorific came after a second’s pause, long enough to be noticeable but short enough that Tevos couldn’t tell if the delay had been on purpose.

“I’m aware. Wirea and Y’Sael, yes?”

“Yeah, they’re the ones.”

“I’ve been informed of their circumstances. However, my point remains. They would have had plenty of chances to attack me away from the public eye, so why make such a spectacle? Why allow themselves to be injured or abducted?”

“Could be that wasn’t the motive. Maybe they were trying to make a point or cause a panic. Or…” The detective glanced at the justicar then fixed Tevos with an appraising look. “Or maybe it was plain desperation if you got something on the agenda you’re not sharing.”

Tevos turned to Samara. “Do you share this assessment of the situation? Is the informant most likely one of my guards?”

She couldn’t say which answer she was hoping for. A ‘yes’ would mean that the assassins had been able to infiltrate her innermost circle, and a ‘no’ meant that the informant was still unknown, still capable of causing her harm. When had paranoia become the most reasonable option?

But, a justicar’s words and the truth were one and the same, and having the slightest bit of certainty would be reassuring.

“I cannot say with conviction. The captain and the corporal are not above suspicion, and I would not lightly dismiss Detective Xiasa’s intuitions,” said Samara, “though it may be chance at work.”

Apparently, even for a justicar, certainty was difficult to come by these days. It was almost comical. Almost.

“It really is too soon in the investigation,” the detective cut in, fidgeting with her datapad.

“Then perhaps it’s also too soon to condemn the women who risked their lives for mine,” Tevos said, quietly. “Do what you must for your investigation, detective. If you speak with my assistant, she’ll provide you with their files and set up any interviews you deem necessary. I trust you will handle it with discretion. Are we finished here?”

“I’d like to get your version of events for the official record and there are a few forms I’ll need to get your signature on.” The detective pulled up a recording program on her Omnitool, the orange glow lighting her face from beneath.

Tevos glanced down at her hands. She had gone through an event. The screaming and the confusion and the suffocating terror had been an event. How comfortingly dull it sounded, no more distressing than a particularly tedious meeting.

Ilenia had gone through an event too. She could still feel the evidence of it covering her hands, the smell and taste of it thick in her mouth.

Nausea twisted her stomach. She didn’t want to think about it, not yet. A dozen polite refusals were poised on her tongue, but she couldn’t seem to force them out. The justicar stood between her and the light, and the shadow that fell over Tevos was as heavy as any weight.

“Actually, I’m afraid I have an urgent matter that I must discuss with the councilor,” Samara said, her words firm but surprisingly gentle.

The detective’s glanced at Samara, her eyes wide. “It’s…” she started, voice strained. She swallowed, looking to Tevos with a faintly pleading expression. “It’s your call, Councilor. We can do the interview later.”

Tevos favored her with a smile of genuine relief. “It would be ungrateful of me to ask you to wait after all you’ve done today. Detective, shall we continue this some other time?”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ll leave you to it then,” the detective said, beaming.

She hurried to the door, pausing on the threshold. “Justicar, it was an… honor.”

The door clicked shut behind the detective, leaving Tevos alone with Samara.

Tevos cleared her throat and clasped her hands together to hide the faint tremor that the detective had failed to see. The texture of cloth and skin underneath her fingers helped remind her that her hands were dry and clean. Her face settled into a look of attentive concern with the ease of centuries of practice.

“Urgent matters? Any help I can possibly give is yours, just tell me what you need,” she said, her voice as composed as her expression.

“The issue is not the help you might provide, but the danger I believe you to be in. The assassins will likely make another attempt on your life soon.” Samara could have been reciting passages of the Code with all the quiet conviction in her voice.

“You don’t think your-” Tevos paused, trying to think of an appropriate term, “-intervention might have made them reconsider?”

Intervention was another overly sterile word. How many times had she seen that written on the top of reports: Casualties of Spectre Intervention, Colony Uprising Requires Immediate Intervention, Intervention in Territorial Dispute Deemed Unprofitable, Reaper-like in the way it assimilated life after life into its definition.

“I do not,” she said, simply.

“I suppose that would have been too much to hope for,” Tevos said, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I’ve already put in a request for a Spectre escort, and you can be certain there will be much tighter security at all my public appearances for the next few months. I’m safe as can be, except for all the people who want me dead.”

“You are putting your trust in a structure that may already be compromised. An informant could have access to all that information and more.”

“Assuming there is an informant. Assuming that the potential informant has unfettered access to my schedule and bodyguards. Assuming they won’t be found in the next few days. I cannot huddle in a bunker somewhere based solely on assumptions.” Tevos held up a hand to forestall any objections, an ingrained reaction despite how Samara was waiting patiently for her to finish her thoughts. “And I would not even if there was unquestionable proof; I have responsibilities.”

“One of your responsibilities is staying alive, Councilor. I’m not suggesting that you flee, only that you have all the protection possible.” Samara put her hand on Tevos’ shoulder, continuing, “I would be of service to you.”

Tevos looked from the hand on her shoulder to the justicar’s face and back again, confusion twisting her mouth into a frown. “I’m not… You would? As a guard? I thought the Code favored hunting criminals over protecting politicians.”

“My oaths are better fulfilled by guarding you than chasing down thieves and smugglers. The Code demands that I protect the innocent and defend asari society, while your assassination would lead to panic and infighting. My course of action is clear.”

It would be difficult politically to accept Samara’s offer. Tevos’ rivals in the Assembly already spoke too much, in hissed conversations that always cut out just before she turned the corner and with pointed looks whenever they believed her back turned; Thessia’s reporters never lacked for a venomous quote from an anonymous source. A justicar standing over them, weighing their every action with implacable conviction, would only give them more to rail against on the late-night feeds.

Even Tevos had to suppress a wince at the thought of signing off on some necessary intervention with Samara by her side. There would be no hiding behind sterile words and kind euphemisms then. Not with the grim set of Samara’s mouth, the tension in her muscles, a sign of just how little stood between Tevos and her own judgment.

Tevos opened her mouth to say as much, but closed it almost immediately, a single syllable lefthanging in the air. “Ah-”

The hand on her shoulder was gentle. Not so long ago it too had dripped with dull purple, the blood of the guilty and innocent mingling together in the gaps between the armored plates; now it was unstained, its grip on her steadying.

Tevos covered it with one of her own and imagined she could feel the warmth of Samara’s skin through the slick material of her gloves.

Alright, then,” Tevos said, nodding slowly. “Alright.”

She was the lawfully elected councilor of the asari people, and she would weather the Assembly’s outrage if it came to that.

Samara returned her nod and eased her hand out from under Tevos’. She knelt, her armor creaking as she settled into position. Even bent low her head came up to just above Tevos’ waist.

“I must swear an oath so that I am not forced to put the Code above your safety.” Samara’s biotics flared, trailing across her shoulders and down the lengths of her arms. Her voice took on the measured cadence of ritual. “By the Code, I will defend you, Councilor. My body is your shield, my strength your sword. While I draw breath, no harm will come to you.”

Tevos drew the justicar to her feet, holding onto her hands for a few moments longer than strictly necessary. “You make it so easy to believe you,” she said softly, bare of artifice, “thank you.”

A few stray biotic sparks harmlessly played over Tevos’ fingers, physical proof Samara’s oath. Something so small as that shouldn’t have made Tevos feel calmer, but the shadows in the room seemed less deep, the light less harsh. The world had lost some of its edge.

“And I want to thank you for before. If you hadn’t been there, I would… well… nothing good, I suspect.” Tevos turned her head away, her hand unconsciously going to her neck at the memory of the needle.

“The Code demanded that I act,” Samara said neutrally. She paused for a moment, her lips curling up at the corners in a slight smile, and she added, “But you are welcome.”

Samara stepped back, her expression fading into her usual impassive mask. “How much longer will you be staying in the hospital?”

Tevos blinked, the moment broken. “Hmm? No more than a few hours or so. Why do you ask?”

“I had not anticipated this situation when I arrived in the city. With your permission, I have a few affairs I must put in order before I can fully devote myself to my new task. They will not take much time.”

“Of course you have my permission,” Tevos laughed. “Attend to your affairs, Justicar. I’ll be ready to leave by the time you return.”

“Farewell, Councilor,” Samara said with a bow, heading for the door.

“It’s Tevos,” she called after her. “My name is Tevos.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and this is the new part

Outside the city proper, the scars of evacuation and invasion were all the more apparent. No structure was entirely intact, hiding the worst of the damage behind hasty metal patches or glass walls spiderwebbed with cracks. Pedestrians picked their way through the rubble piled up on both sides of the road, heads down and expressions hunted, walking just a little faster as they passed one low building in particular and the single asari standing guard at its gate. They gave Samara an even wider bearth, crossing to the other side of the street to avoid being in her path. 

As Samara approached, the guard snapped to attention, her datapad clattering to the ground still blaring the tinny music from the holo-sim game she’d been playing, and waved her through. Inside, the small courtyard had been meticulously swept clean and a few plants had been set out where they could catch the sunlight. Before Samara could raise a hand to knock on the front door, it opened and there was Falere, looking the same as when they’d said their goodbyes at the monastery, looking the same as centuries before when they first parted.

“You came back.” Falere started to reach for her, fingertips stopping just shy of the threshold. 

“I have. It is proper for a mother to visit her daughter and for a justicar to visit her charge,” Samara said, stiffly. “May I come in?”

If Falere declined, the Code permitted Samara to enter regardless. Ardat-Yakshi did not have the same rights to privacy afforded to the other galactic species. But Falere opened the door wider and ushered her into the sitting room. 

Though spartan, the interior of the home was as well maintained as the courtyard, Samara noted with approval. More plants decorated the few shelves and plaster had been freshly applied over the most obvious cracks. The sole piece of furniture was a meditation couch placed directly in the puddle of sunlight coming in through the high windows. 

“I don’t get many visitors,” Falere said, apologetically, “Have a seat and I’ll get the chair from the kitchen.”

“I can stand.”

Falere looked down for a moment, then nodded. “Can I get you anything? Water? Tea? I think I still have some bread my handler dropped off last week.”

She reminded Samara so much of her younger self in that moment, the child who refused to leave her side or demanded to be carried around on her shoulders despite how Falere’s sisters teased her for it. Centuries had passed, Falere was on the cusp of becoming a matron, and still there was that same yearning for closeness.

“Tea would be appreciated,” Samara answered, finally, and Falere smiled for the first time since she opened the door.

She hurried into the kitchen and came back in a few minutes with two mugs, handing one to Samara. Falere settled on one end of the couch and blew steam off the surface of her tea. “You’ll like this one. It reminds me of the kind Rila used to make when she went through that decade long Batarian tea phase of hers. Do you remember? She refused to drink anything grown on Thessia. Only Mirala was brave enough to tell her how pretentious it was.”

“I remember.” 

Falere sighed. “Mother, if you came just to fulfill your duty as a justicar, you don’t need to worry. I haven’t left the compound since I was evacuated from Lesuss and you can check with my handler. I still plan on returning to the monastery once it’s rebuilt. I’m not going to run.”

“That wasn’t the only reason I made the journey.” Samara sat down on the far end of the couch, posture rigid. “I wanted to see how you were. After the monastery, my oath called me elsewhere and I could not be a source of strength for you as I would have wished.”

Falere stared into her tea. “It was difficult for us, hiding from the Reapers, digging the survivors out of the rubble. I looked for Rila’s body but… And then when the commandos came, at first we thought they were there to finish off any Ardat-Yakshi still alive, but they brought us back to Thessia and here I am.” She swallowed. “Safe and sound.”

Though Falere was the last of the known true Ardat-Yakshi, the monastery had been home to dozens of others with varying degrees of affliction. Samara was unaware how many of them had survived long enough to be evacuated and placed under separate guard until their sanctuary could be restored.

The leather of Samara’s gloves creaked as her grip tightened around the mug. “If there had been any allowance in the Code, I would have taken you with me.”

“I know, mother. I know.”

Silence stretched between them.

“For countless years, I hunted Morinth, following the trail of destruction and broken lives she left across the galaxy. This was right and proper as befits a servant of the Code,” Samara said, “but in doing so I neglected my duty to you and Rila. I cannot ask her forgiveness now, nor will I ask yours, but you are my beloved daughters --” Falere turned to face her, eyes wet. “-- and I am proud of who you became.”

“She shouldn’t have been alone.” The first tears broke from Falere’s lashes and dripped down her cheek. “Not at the end.”

“Rila sacrificed herself for you and your fellow Ardat-Yakshi. The knowledge that you were safe would have comforted her more than your presence.”

“I loved her so much.” 

“And she loved you as well. Her last act in this life was one of bravery and compassion.”

Falere sniffed and scrubbed the tears from her eyes with the heel of one hand. “She would have hated it here. She could never meditate if there was too much noise.”

They sat quietly as their tea cooled and the pool of sunlight surrounding the couch began to shrink back towards their feet.

Finally, Falere said, “I saw you on the news feeds earlier. I can’t believe someone was shameless enough to attack a memorial ceremony. Is the councilor alright?”

Samara thought back to that chaotic moment in the courtyard, how the councilor once freed hadn’t fled or cowered behind Samara, instead trying to save the life of one of her guards. How her hands had trembled in Samara’s as she drew Tevos away from the body, but her words had been steady and authoritative when the commandos arrived on the scene. 

“By the grace of the Goddess, she was mostly unharmed, though she may yet be in danger.” 

“So, you’ll be hunting down those responsible, then.” Falere took a sip of her cold tea, grimaced, and set it aside. “Will you come see me again when the monastery is rebuilt?” There was something in her tone. Disappointment? Resignation?

“My duty to the asari and the Code is best served by remaining here and guarding the Councilor until the threat has passed,” Samara said. Her voice softened, “If it is amenable to you, I will visit as I am able.”

Falere smiled. “Please do.”

“I must go, but there’s something I want you to have.” She stood and reached into her armor, pulling out the slim book of meditations she carried next to her heart. “This was of great comfort to me in times of turmoil. I hope it will provide you some small measure of peace.”

Falere’s fingers brushed reverently over the worn cover and the faded, curling asari script of its title. “Mother…”

“Have faith in your own bravery and compassion, Falere --” Before she could say more, Falere flung her arms around Samara’s neck, burying her face in crimson armored plates. After a moment, Samara returned the embrace and allowed herself to hold Falere tight, one cheek resting against the top of her head. “I love you, my daughter.”

***

Vineal looked up from the notes and press materials spread out between her and Tevos. “It won’t work.”

They had set up around Tevos’ dining room table while a Spectre team thoroughly swept the apartment for listening devices as the last rays of sunlight painted the sky with pinks and blues. Now, night had long since fallen. Half-forgotten plates of food had been pushed aside in favor of data pads with multicolored displays of polling numbers and aggregated survey data. At the far side of the table, one of Tevos’ aides was sleeping, her head pillowed on her folded arms, while Altira dutifully continued to take notes, chin only occasionally dropping down to her chest before she startled awake.

“It has to. We’re less than a year out from the evacuation and I won’t have our people living in fear of another dramatic political shift.” Tevos met her gaze levelly. “This was the playbook for every other assassination attempt. It was even the plan earlier this afternoon. I don’t see why that has to change.”

Vineal sighed. “I overestimated how much control we still had over the news feeds. If things had been more contained, we might’ve had a chance to spin the attack as a complete failure. But they weren’t and we can’t.” For the first time that evening she sounded tired. “They’ve been playing that clip of you at the podium on a loop since it happened, and, Councilor, you look scared.”

Tevos rubbed her temples. The numbing effects of the Medi-gel had worn off a few hours ago and the ache of her healing crests throbbed through her skull, mingling with the pressure behind her eyes in what was shaping up to be a truly wretched tension headache. 

“Even so, if I get up in front of the cameras tomorrow, show them that there’s nothing to worry about, that I was never in any danger…”

“Madame Councilor -- Tevos -- they won’t believe it,” she said, gently. “Pre-beacon scandal, you would have had the credibility and political capital to pull it off, but the field has changed. The rest of the council species, High Command, the asari people, some of them still like you -- the polling numbers show it! -- but, and I say this with all due respect, they do not trust you.”

There it was. Tevos had revealed the existence of the Athame Beacon to the Council after it became apparent the Reaper threat was more dire than anyone believed possible, but she had delayed too long holding out for a better option and the cost was too high. Afterwards, taking sole responsibility for the beacon to spare the zealous matriarchs of the temple further inquiry was only the latest in a long series of blows to her political reputation. 

Vineal continued, “Going to the conference with an obviously shaky narrative is a gamble we can’t risk. We need to get you up there, have you thank the brave commandos and security forces who responded to the incident, and get you moved along before anyone asks any difficult questions.”

Tevos dug her fingertips in even harder and let Vineal take her silence for the agreement it was. 

“Good, since we have that settled, let’s set a time tomorrow to go over the outline for the trade address.” One look at Tevos’ expression had Vineal reaching for the nearest data-pad and opening up a new set of documents. “... or we could get started now.”

They had just begun fleshing out the main bullet points when Tevos’ omnitool lit up with a meeting invitation. The sender appeared to be a minor official from one of the outlying colonies and the subject line was utterly bland, but there were few people who could get through the privacy filter Tevos set in place and only one of them would bother hiding her identity. 

“I’m afraid I need to answer this,” Tevos said, getting to her feet, the sore muscles in her back protesting the change in position after so long at the table. 

“Should I wait for you, Councilor?” Her mouth was set in a grim line, clearly anticipating a later than usual work night. 

“That won’t be necessary, I may be some time. Have Altira schedule a time for us to meet tomorrow and call you a skycar.” Tevos glanced over at where her secretary had slumped against the other aide, her battle to stay awake forfeited. “And take the two of them with you.”

Tevos waited until they left before heading to her study, sparing a guilty look over her shoulder at where the justicar sat cross-legged on the floor. She had spent the early hours of the evening staring out the window overlooking the city, her expression an unreadable mask of serenity, only meditating once the Spectre team finished their work and took up positions outside the building. 

Some hasty research on the interplay between the Code and personal oaths of service had eased Tevos’ anxiety that the justicar would judge her for the slightest misstep, but it seemed unwise to test the boundaries anymore than strictly necessary. Fortunately, her study was soundproofed and the justicar appeared deep into her devotions. 

Tevos settled into her desk chair and took a deep breath in and out, composing herself before hitting the invitation accept button. Purple light spilled out of the holo-screen, assembling itself into the form of Aria T’Loak, imperious in white leather and lounging carelessly on the great curved couch in the back room of the Afterlife. 

“Tevos.” Aria’s lips curled in a dangerous smile. She was one of the few people to ever address Tevos by her name without an invitation. “Imagine my surprise when I heard that you, Councilor Tevos of the Assembly, voice of the asari people, the most frigid nun of a politician ever to waste her maiden years filing paperwork, was caught embracing eternity live on camera. Really, I wish you had reached out to me. We could have turned it into a very lucrative business venture and given the Thessian economy a boost.” 

Hidden beneath the desk Tevos’ hands fisted in the loose fabric of her dress. Most conversations with Aria began with a jab, the only winning move was not to react.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about,” she responded, lightly. 

“Well, I was also curious about your choice of partner. Never took you for the rugged commando type, but it’s always the quiet ones, isn’t it? Did she manage to fish out any state secrets or just have a good time?”

“Aria.” 

“There was one more thing: it wasn’t me.” Aria spread her hands wide in a magnanimous gesture. “Have your investigators already spoken to you about the mercenaries?” Tevos kept silent. “No? Well, they must’ve mistakenly thought the asari councilor keeps somewhat reasonable hours. I’m sure tomorrow some detective will tell you all about how they’re part of a Blue Suns splinter group from Omega.”

When the situation was less dire, Tevos needed to make it a priority to root out the informants Aria had cultivated in Thessian law enforcement before they became too entrenched. 

“A mercenary outfit from Omega acted without your express consent?”

“The smaller ones come and go too frequently to be worth keeping on a tight leash.” She shrugged. “As long as they pay their credits and don’t break the cardinal rule.”

There was only one rule on Omega to be respected above all others: don’t fuck with Aria. Crude but effective apart from the occasional insurrection.

“The rest of them aren’t on the station anymore, then.” Otherwise, Aria would have already offered them to Tevos for some exorbitant price. “Have you started searching the surrounding area?”

“And waste precious resources in these difficult times?” Aria met her gaze. Between her dress and her demeanor, Aria could have passed for a maiden from a distance, but even through the hologram her eyes were ancient. Predatory. “Why, Tevos, are you asking me for a personal favor?”

Over the centuries they had reached countless agreements, personally or through intermediaries. Bartering for weapons or eezo. Prisoner exchanges and safe passage agreements. The terms were always clear and set beforehand, neither owing the other anything at the conclusion of the deal. 

As a rule, actual favors were few and only flowed in one direction. Tevos could justify delaying a certain piece of legislation a few years or turning the occasional blind eye to unfortunate business practices, because being friendly with Aria T’Loak was just good politics. Being in her debt was another matter entirely.

“Rather, I was thinking it would be in your own self-interest,” Tevos said, choosing her words carefully. “If the assassins are successful, the next councilor might not be so agreeable.” Like with the immigration issues Tevos had smoothed over for Aria during the short time she had to flee an uprising. Better to not to say so out loud, though. Aria would take it as a provocation. “She and many others in High Command would likely assume that mercenaries would only be so bold if they had the blessing of the Queen of Omega.”

Aria’s expression didn’t change for several long moments and Tevos worried that she’d overplayed her hand, but then Aria laughed, leaning back against the cushions. “That’s true, it’s no good having the Blue Suns thinking they can go behind my back and get away with it. I’ll find them, but what I do with them after that, well --” Aria’s tone was light and her smile was cold. “-- that’ll depend entirely on how agreeable you end up being, won’t it?”

Aria terminated the call and Tevos breathed out slowly as her shoulders relaxed bit by bit. As far as conversations with Aria went, this one hadn’t gone too badly. Tevos had learned some information without giving up any major concessions. All in all, it should have been a victory, but it didn’t feel like one. 

Briefly, Tevos considered heading to bed. Her body ached where the medi-gel had failed to reach beyond surface bruising and her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. The raw spots on her hands burned when she gripped her omnitool too tightly. It seemed impossible that so much could have happened in one day, that she could have been on her knees and pleading for her life and sitting at her table, planning out speeches all within the span of an afternoon. She was sore and exhausted and --

\-- and she poured herself a glass of wine from the kitchen then sat back down at the dining room table. Vineal or Altira had tidied up before they left, but it wasn’t difficult to pull up the relevant information to continue working on the trade address. Once that was done, there were a few proposed eezo regulatory bills that would be up for a vote in the coming weeks. While not the most pressing issue, it was better to read them now and see what rewrites she would need to push for before the bills hit the floor and the matriarchs involved became considerably less malleable. 

Absorbed in her work, Tevos didn’t hear the justicar’s approach until she was right beside her. “The hour grows late,” the justicar intoned. 

“It may be more accurate to say early at this point.” Tevos put her data-pad aside and stretched. “Please don’t feel as if you need to stay up with me. The guest bedroom should already be set up.”

Tevos’ guest bedroom had been used almost exclusively by her guards for the last few decades. Heightened security protocols required one of them to stay the night at all times, and despite precedent Tevos had been unwilling to share her bed with them. 

“I am more concerned with your wellbeing.” The justicar’s normally impassive voice carried the faintest hint of disapproval. “The day has been a trying one, councilor.”

Without thinking, Tevos glanced down at her hand, then tried to hide the motion by taking a sip of wine. “Unfortunately, sleep doesn’t always come so easily when it's most needed. And call me Tevos, I insist.”

“Your thoughts are troubled. I understand.” Nothing perceptible in the justicar’s expression had changed, but it still seemed softer somehow. She rested a gauntleted hand on Tevos’ shoulder and squeezed, once briefly. “I will share your vigil, Tevos.”

Hearing her name spoken in that ancient inflection that only colored the eldest matriarchs’ speech made the corner of Tevos’ lips curve up in a slight smile. It sounded more like she was a character from asari legend than a politician polling worse by the day. It was almost charming.

“That’s not necessary. We shouldn’t both be exhausted tomorrow.” Seeing the unyielding set of the justicar’s mouth, she quickly added, “But I can always work from my bedroom. It might relax me enough to get a few hours of rest.”

“A wise decision.” Again, Tevos got the impression the justicar -- Samara -- was smiling, though not a single facial muscle betrayed her thoughts. 

With a bow, Samara departed for the guest room and Tevos settled into bed. Beside her on the covers, she had a stack of data-pads she intended to comb through, but soon found herself rereading the same few paragraphs over and over, dozing off too much to keep her place in the text. Giving up on work for the evening, she turned off the lights and tried to find a position that didn’t put any pressure on her healing crests. As she drifted to sleep, she imagined she could still feel a comforting echo of the justicar’s touch.  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope it's not too glaringly obvious how much mass effect lore i've forgotten over the last seven years


End file.
